Evidence of Things Not Seen
by SMKLegacy
Summary: Philosophy, theology, alcohol, and a couple of CSIs. Response to the May 30 05 Unbound Improv challenge.


**Evidence of Things Not Seen**

TEASER: Philosophy, theology, alcohol, and a couple of CSIs. Response to the 5-30-05 Unbound Improv challenge.

RATING: M for language and sexual content

SPOILERS: Through Season 5.

DISCLAIMERS: Not mine for legal or fiduciary purposes, but in my fantasy world, it's another story.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reviews appreciated, archived at my site, and my VCR has an aversion to the episode "Snakes" because it refuses to record on Thursdays when that episode is on. I haven't a clue how it knows. First and last lines given, 1000 word limit for the story itself; according to MS Word 2003, I made it with 4 words to spare.

**CSI CSI CSI**

**"You should not believe in anything for which there is absolutely no evidence."** Grissom tilted his head back and drained his fifth scotch in an hour. All he'd eaten was a slice of cold cheese pizza.

"So I should absolutely believe in anything for which there is evidence." Sara took a swig from her third beer and watched him chew on that thought. Two pieces of pizza blunted the alcohol, which she didn't feel anyway because she was sitting in Grissom's townhouse at his invitation.

He reached for the bottle of Glenfiddich but his hand clamped around empty air.

The deep amber whisky burbled as she refilled his glass.

"Thank you, waitress."

She didn't correct him as he swallowed half.

"Evidence only points toward the truth. You should only believe in the absolute truth."

"You don't believe in God. What absolute truth do you believe in, Grissom?"

He downed the rest, motioned for her to pour him another, drank that, too. She wondered if he had forgotten the question. She took a breath to speak when his voice startled her.

"Your beauty."

She inhaled sharp, dry air, burning her throat.

"Your beauty, your integrity, your passion for finding the truth. The only absolute truth I believe in is you, Sara." He pushed himself up from the table and stumbled around to kneel in front of her. "Everything you do is evidence of your beauty. When you help prosecute the guilty and protect the innocent, it's evidence of your passion for finding the truth. Every hard road proves your integrity."

Given how much alcohol he had in his system, she was surprised he neither slurred nor mispronounced his words. If only he were completely sober instead of well on his way to dead drunk.

"Grissom, that's . . . that's incredibly sweet."

"You just wish I were sober."

She gave him a weak smile. "Yeah."

He reached out his hand and pulled her up by her elbow. The sudden contact with his body sent shivers coursing through her.

"I'd make a sandwich and some coffee if I thought I could manage it, Sara." He wrapped his arms around her, an anchor to hold himself up.

"How about two sandwiches and some very strong coffee, Grissom? I'll make it for you." She set her bottle on the table beside her. "Sit down before you fall down, please."

He nodded faintly and folded into the chair behind him, bringing her with him onto his lap.

Before she could react, he pressed his lips to hers, a gentle, undemanding kiss of great promise. "A deposit on my sobriety," he said, releasing her and dropping his head sideways to the table, a marionette cut from his strings.

She smiled and lifted herself off his legs, resisting the urge to leave a kiss on his forehead.

She started the coffee first, using a stash of Greg's special premium beans she found in the freezer. The sandwiches proved harder; the lunch meat and the eggs both had an expiration date of February 15. Good mayonnaise, frozen bread, and canned chicken led to passable chicken salad.

She let him sleep for 20 minutes before she poured his first cup of coffee. He stared at her, fish eyed, before he took the big mug and sipped at it.

"I'll get you some water, too."

"M'okay, waitress," he mumbled into the steam.

He meant either, "I'm okay without it," or, "Thanks, I need it." She gave it to him anyway with the first sandwich and sat with him as he picked at his food for a few minutes before he picked up half and bit into it with gusto.

"This is good." He took another bite. "Really good," he amended with his mouth full.

Before long, he had finished both sandwiches, a pint of water, and half the coffee. "I think I could pass a breathalyzer now, Sara," he announced.

"I'll settle for walking a straight line."

He grinned at her and stood up. "See the line along this plank? I'll walk it, turn, and walk the divider sill. Will that be evidence enough of my sobriety?"

Sara laughed and nodded. Sure enough, he passed.

"Now, you asked me what absolute truth I believe in." He wrapped her in his arms and spoke against her ear. "I believe in the absolute truth of your beauty, your integrity, and your passion for truth, Sara Sidle. You are my absolute truth."

This time, his kiss left her panting for breath and aching for him to touch her. Her body had never responded so readily to a kiss; she couldn't imagine what having his hands caressing her bare skin would be like.

She didn't have to wait. Grissom picked her up and carried her into his bedroom, where he laid her on his bed and, with exquisite attention to detail, undressed her piece by piece until she lay naked under him.

"I've never been served by such a beautiful waitress," he announced with a huge grin and twinkling blue eyes.

She thought of taking offense for all of a half second before he dove for her lips again, his lips apologizing for his jest even as his hands teased and pleased her most intimate and erogenous places. She stripped him, not caring that at least one shirt button went flying.

The absolute truth became clear as they made love: Gil Grissom loved her with every fiber of his being. He confessed and apologized a dozen times over as wave after wave of passion crashed through her, leading her to confess her truth to him as well.

The sun had been up for more than three hours when they finally had no more energy to explore their love. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her against him to spoon as they slept.

"I love you, Sara."

"I love you, too, Gil." She felt him smile against her neck. **"But you know I'm not really a waitress."**

**--FIN--**


End file.
